


Tit For Tat

by farabeuf



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Shower Sex, Slight Exhibitionist Tendencies, no homo bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farabeuf/pseuds/farabeuf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jihoon always has to even the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tit For Tat

**Author's Note:**

> A day may come when I write something that would my mother proud, something that is worth the reading... But it is not this day!

Jihoon is an avid believer of the wonders that are to be found in the practice of a well-balanced play. He believes that, whenever there is a business concerning more than one entity, there is an imperative necessity of maintaining the equilibrium between the two parties, and this equality goal is often achieved through the accurate use of what he likes to call the art of reciprocity. Likewise, the ever-changing happenings of life have taught him that the implementation of this system in his daily problem-solving routine may contribute to the sustainability of a twenty-four hour-long smile as it does not only prevent the fear of demonstrating weakness from surfacing, but also encourages the construction of a sense of justice among the involved parties.

Shortly put, tit for tat makes justice and, considering that justice is necessary for Jihoon’s sanity, it’s totally understandable that the most logical reaction when certain chinese fuckboy gropes his ass is groping back. 

 

There is a tacit protocol established for artists that take part in the Korean entertainment industry, procedural guidelines they ought to follow. It’s a schedule set up that makes an idol’s promotion period if not nicer at least easier by maintaining a fragile order between overwork and basic human rights. Seventeen, as every other group out there competing for recognition, is inevitably put through this regime. They usually hold a few fan-signing events during their comeback promotions to trigger their fans’ active support by selling an illusion of approachability, in which the gap between the audience and the stage is ignored and a short-lived feeling of close proximity arises. They show up and suck the love out of everyone with heart hand gestures matching their stage smiles and their childlike charm and those hideously cute outfits that make them look as if they’ve just jumped out from a musical about hipsters trying to bring back to life retro.

These events are a repetitive cycle, go by the same steps every time: introduction of the members, promotion of the album and the song, shittalk, a few hours sitting and signing and chatting with fans while holding their hands, more shittalk and goodbye. Altogether, it’s a nice routine all the members have slipped into, and even if it’s tiring, Jihoon can get some sort of comfort from it. What he can’t get comfort from, though, is fucking Junhui grabbing his butt and tugging at his clothes and trying to steal the microphone and just generally picking on him. 

He should have expected it, considering the fact that Junhui doesn’t normally rush to stand by his side at events. His intentions should have been obvious, taking into account his immediate past background, a teasing that has been going on for a few days already. Maybe Jihoon let himself be fooled into believing that Junhui wouldn’t dare to behave like the annoying attention-whore he is in public. He underestimated him. 

All thirteen members are lined up and doing their memorized introduction when Jisoo starts with the bullshit, patting Jihoon’s butt twice, and Junhui takes it upon himself to finish. 

The first of many annoying things Junhui does that day is to take advantage of the fact that Jihoon is too busy glaring at Jisoo to be paying attention. That abusive bastard spanks Jihoon’s butt, startling the distracted boy and making him release an embarrassing high-pitched yelp that will forever be denied; he is just glad the microphone was at a prudent distance away from his mouth. The second thing he does is to pull at Jihoon’s suspenders and then let go of them, so that the elastic band slaps against his chest. Jihoon takes deep breaths and counts from one to ten and then backwards, putting into action what he learned a year ago from some anger control infomercial. He tells himself that those actions themselves, though off-putting, don’t upset him. Technically speaking, it’s not a lie; what really pisses him off is the pleased smirk in the asshole’s face when he does it.

Jihoon is a fair human being, only violent when necessary and so balanced that when he spanks the chinese boy with enough strength to hurt and pulls at the other’s suspenders to the maximum extent is neither for revenge nor for the desire to erase that stupid mocking grin, it’s rather a way to pursue justice between them. 

It’s a fair deal. That’s what Jihoon tells himself every time he retaliates the offenses he gets.

 

It all started about a week prior when Soonyoung, the only man Jihoon knows capable of producing such an alarming amount of shitty ideas in record speed, created the _Jihoon Harassing Squad_. It was an irritating coalition between him, Jisoo, Mingyu and Junhui that set the goal to waste their spare time and energy pestering Jihoon. At first he paid them no mind, mainly because Jisoo is a good boy that knows his limits and Mingyu is a scaredy-cat around Jihoon, which makes their teasing bearable, but Soonyoung and Junhui have a persistence that must be acknowledged. 

Nonetheless, Jihoon, well known and respected for his short temper and his lack of patience, manages to disintegrate most of the _Jihoon Harassing Squad_ by the end of the week. A “please, thank you” is enough to make Jisoo quit the bullying team, a threat makes the trick for Mingyu and a bruised rib marks Soonyoung’s withdrawal. With three men down, Jihoon can happily say that everything is going smoothly. But his joy only lasts until he approaches Junhui with a peaceful truce and that blond piece of shit just pinches his cheeks and runs to the room he shares with Minghao and Wonwoo, locking the door behind him and laughing when Jihoon kicks the door from the outside.

A merciful man’s wise reaction would be to forgive those who trespass against him. Unfortunately for Junhui, Jihoon believes more in the law of talion than any religious clemency principles. He opts to set his alarm at two in the morning, sneak into Junhui’s room, squeeze his cheek between his thumb and forefinger and then go back to sleep with the sweet lullaby of the boy’s scream replaying in the back of his mind.

 

After that day, what started as a suicidal experiment performed by a pack of four idiots officially becomes a civil war between two headstrong teenagers. 

Junhui would kick Jihoon’s feet under the table and Jihoon would kick his shins instead. Junhui would hit Jihoon’s thighs with a wet towel and Jihoon would hit him back with a leather belt. Junhui would tousle Jihoon’s hair and Jihoon would pull his. And Lord knows for how long they would have kept going their little prank competition if Junhui hadn’t leveled up the game when he decided it was a good idea to creep into Jihoon’s studio one Thursday evening, bite his neck and escape with flailing arms and a laugh that sounded uncannily similar to a stabbed pig. 

Junhui acted out of dauntless ignorance, he certainly didn’t know the monster he was unleashing when he did that, but that unawareness dissipates completely when he tries to cover the hickey that taints his collarbone with BB cream. It’s a little spot, colored an angry red and slightly painful that reminds him how Jihoon hadn’t only bit his skin in retaliation, but also sucked and the only thought that crosses Junhui’s mind right now is that, maybe, he did the right move.

Jihoon is still unaware of the initial intention Soonyoung had when he came up with the idea to harass him. It was to prove that the boy was dangerously vindictive and to test how far he would go to calm his thirst for revenge. Eventually, it became a competition in which the winner would be the one who did anything to Jihoon and managed to get away with it. It seemed like such an unattainable achievement that Soonyoung even bet his Xbox One.

By now, Junhui is literally the last competitor, but he still hasn’t won and his stubbornness won’t allow him to left things undone after he has set himself a goal, especially not when the Xbox is still on the table. So, a few days later, Junhui pushes his luck again. 

They are called to the conference room to hold a routine meeting with their vocal and dancing instructors as soon as they wake up. It’s nothing serious, just something they’ve been doing since their debut: they gather with their tutors a few hours midway through their promotions to discuss the flaws in their performance and seek improvement because they’re conscious that only perfection can take them to the top. 

Slowly, thirteen sleepy-eyed boys fill the room, dragging their feet to their seats and occasionally yawning away the slumber while they wait for the elders. It’s the crack of dawn and they’re barely there in body, their minds still numb. Everyone’s hair is messy and huge dark circles garnish their faces. Junhui scans the room looking for Jihoon and chuckles when he spots his target sitting at the corner the furthest away from the window with a blank face, his eyes not even open yet. One could say Jihoon is not a morning person based on the way his senses awaken at least half an hour after he does. That is probably the reason why when Junhui rushes to sit by his side, he doesn’t even spare him a glance.

When their instructors arrive, they sit at each end of the table and announce the beginning of the meeting. Junhui thinks it’s cute the way Jihoon’s eyes open immediately when he hears their voice; like he has some kind of switch in his head that turns on and off his sense of responsibility, activated by their teacher’s command. Once he’s finally awake, he notices Junhui by his side and gives him a judging look because the seats are settled by some unspoken arrangement that determines it’s Jeonghan who sits beside him. The chinese boy just shrugs and mouths a “good morning”, getting nothing more than a raised eyebrow as a reply. 

The gesture is a mix between annoyance and indifference, probably meant to be just a nonchalant warning from a drowsy Jihoon, but Junhui takes it as the cue to carry out his plan. 

He waits until Jihoon is entirely focused in whatever their vocal tutor is saying to make his move. On the sly, he places his hand upon Jihoon’s knee, the one that is brushing against his own, and feels the other tense next to him. Jihoon’s presence has always been strong and hard to ignore, therefore it requires Junhui’s best attempt at concentration to avoid looking his way and meeting the sour gaze the other is giving him. He does his best to ignore the silent protest that lies in Jihoon’s eyes, the quiet command that tells him to stop. Instead, he spreads his fingers and grabs his knee, holds onto it with minimal strength, yet enough to upset Jihoon.

Junhui turns his head to the side, opposite from Jihoon, towards Wonwoo who is trying to convince their instructors that he’s just fine and ready for the stage, even if the deadly pale skin tone he sports betrays his words. He pretends to be engrossed in his friend’s sickness denial when Jihoon reacts. He feels two sharp fingers pressing hard into the ligaments of his knee, prodding and poking at his nerves in the most painful manner. He gasps audibly enough for their vocal tutor to hear. The man doesn’t need words to scold him, he just shoots him a vexed look and Junhui lowers his gaze in what he hopes looks like an apologetic gesture. Although the scolding was discreet, he can tell Jihoon saw it because the pressure on his knee retreats immediately.

Junhui knows that messing with Jihoon is putting oneself in danger, so he is not surprised by his violent reaction. What he does find bizarre is that Jihoon’s hand doesn’t retreat; it remains there, threatening to pinch again at any incentive. 

After Wonwoo is done talking, Junhui glances at Jihoon and finds him staring with a straight face at Seungcheol, who is now giving his opinion on this issue. However, when his scrutinizing gaze lingers longer than usual on the boy’s face, he witnesses a small leak in his serious façade. It’s scarcely a twitch of his lips, not enough to become a smirk, yet too evident to ignore. 

Jihoon is playing his game out of some newfound playful willingness rather than the usual anger and Junhui finds it oddly satisfying. He fixes his eyes in the new speaker, holds his breath and slowly, carefully slides his hand a little higher, caressing Jihoon’s denim-clad thigh with his palm wide open, applying no pressure other that he weight of his hand. Jihoon’s leg muscles contract underneath his touch and he stops midway, cutting off the contact all of a sudden. 

Dealing with Jihoon may resemble to taming a wild animal; if you approach him at the right moment with the right motion, he will be manageable; but if you even dare to come near him in the wrong moment, he will snap, attack you with his sharp tongue and aim to kill. That’s why Junhui’s hand is hovering cautiously over Jihoon’s pants, barely separated by millimeters from the material, waiting for the tiger to bite back. 

Jihoon does nothing. 

It’s not unexpected; Junhui knows Jihoon wouldn’t get aggressive while having their tutor’s eyes judging his every move and that’s why he chose this moment to level up his teasing. Although the lack of reaction was planned, it’s still weird, but Junhui is too obstinate to back off. He lets his hand descend again until it touches the material of Jihoon’s pants. 

It’s a failed trigger. As he still receives no reaction, he presses his palm with more strength, more confidence than the first time and slides it towards the inside of his thigh in a snaillike pace, making sure Jihoon feels how a foreign hand invades his intimacy centimeter by centimeter. 

Junhui expects Jihoon to glare at him and mouth some murder threat, but he still does nothing. Instead, his leg relaxes, his hand stays in Junhui’s knee and his blank face remains unbroken. Having limits for his own idiocy, Junhui doesn’t dare to take the sudden docility sample as a good sign, at least not coming from Jihoon. He is one hundred percent sure that Jihoon won’t let it slide, he will have his revenge, and he would be lying if he said he is not expecting it with anguish and eagerness. Actually, this whole situation is like stepping into unknown territory, a mixture between exciting and terrifying. 

Seeing it that way, he’s got nothing to lose and all to win, so he allows his hand to travel further up, closer to his groin and Jihoon tenses again but doesn’t move away. Junhui squeezes once in a swift, almost comforting manner; squeezes twice in a more mischievous way; squeezes trice and he’s undeniably, purposefully building up some kind of tension. It’s awkward yet addictive, so he does it again and again, until the kneading action becomes repetitive and constant enough to set a rhythm.

This act of bravery earns Junhui another pinch in the knee. This time Jihoon’s fingers press into his nerves much harder and the pain lasts much longer. The chinese kid has to bite his lips and hold his breath to avoid yelping. Instead, he emits a lame whimper instead that catches the attention of their vocal tutor and the man scolds him. 

“Junhui.” It’s short and vague, but efficient, because Junhui shuts his mouth.

With his nostrils flaring in pain, he looks askance at Jihoon and catches a glimpse of a trembling lower lip and a frown. The playfulness he saw before in Jihoon’s face is gone, an uncomfortable grin taking its place. Junhui doesn’t blame him, though, his own hand is nestled between his legs, massaging the plump flesh through the denim, so close to his crotch that he’s sure a little wiggling of his pinky finger would be enough to poke his dick. It must be distracting.

Something inside Junhui’s head clicks, something telling him that maybe it’s a good idea, that maybe he should try it. It was a random thought, one of those you would never voice out loud, even less execute, but Jihoon is strangely passive and Junhui is feeling reckless. After balancing the pros (he might win that Xbox One) and cons (he might get himself murdered) of his potential action, he decides that it’s now or never. He does it. He lifts his pinky just enough for it to graze the material of Jihoon’s jeans, testing the ground, and almost immediately pushes it against Jihoon’s crotch with all the strength he can muster in his weakest finger. 

The sudden sensation catches Jihoon off-guard and he chokes on his breath loud enough for all to hear and, in a second, all heads are turned his direction, Seokmin even stops talking mid-sentence to look at him. He pretends to cough and removes his hand from Junhui’s knee as if his fingertips had just touched boiling water. He looks around to see if anyone noticed and his eyes meet Jeonghan’s raised eyebrow. 

“Are you okay?” Their vocal instructor seems concerned and with good reason, Jihoon is one of the main singers and catching a cold would temporarily disable his vocal cords. Seventeen cannot afford to lose him, not when they’re already running one member short.

“I’m alright”, Jihoon answers with a steady, clear and sure voice. He sounds confident, and their tutor buys it, but in reality, he is utterly mortified. Junhui can tell by the way his ears turn pink; by the way a blush dyes his neck and face. 

Seokmin starts talking again and almost everybody avert their gaze, except for Jeonghan, who lingers a little longer before his gossip thirst dies down, then he shrugs and looks away. No one is watching anymore and Jihoon’s hands are both on the table, so Junhui deems it safe to continue. 

He moves his hand as far as it can go, until his palm is cupped over Jihoon’s dick. Jihoon jolts and attempts to push Junhui’s hand away, but the jerky motion catches Jeonghan’s attention again and the short boy has no alternative than to stay still. Jihoon is afraid of getting caught, and Junhui takes advantage of his fear of public exposure.

At first he doesn’t move his hand, just lets it rest down there, enjoying the warmness that makes his palm sweat. Jihoon is not hard, he can tell. He is trapped between Jihoon’s cramped thighs, touching him in a private, yet defiant way. It’s a weird type of intimacy, not quite emotionless, yet far from meaningful. It’s more like a dangerously confusing game, and Junhui is willing to reach the next level. 

He bends his middle finger and uses the pad to trace the zipper of the jeans hard enough to be difficult to ignore, but not fast enough to be pleasurable. The friction of his finger against the zipper warms up the previously cold metal, the temperature increase is perceivable. Junhui keeps doing it non-stop as he half-mindedly pays attention to Vernon’s current speech about hip-hop lyrics improvement or something along those lines. As Seungcheol takes the floor, Junhui glances at Jihoon, the boy is clenching his teeth and breathing heavily through his nose. When he feels Junhui’s stare, he searches his eyes and mouths a pleading “stop”.

As a response, Junhui wraps his palm around Jihoon’s crotch again. He knows his ministrations are arousing him because the package in his hand feels a bit bigger, a bit heavier than before and, without giving it a second thought, he squeezes. It was a bad decision and now he regrets it because Jihoon fucking moans, lewd and loud, and everyone in the meeting room turn their heads as fast and synchronized as those meerkats you see in Animal Planet. For a brief moment, Junhui thinks they’re giving them weird looks, but soon he realizes he’s wrong, they’re only looking at Jihoon.

“Are you okay, Jihoon?” His vocal instructor asks again, this time with an accusation lying underneath his concern.

“I’m okay,” Jihoon answers, his voice cracking.

“He’s been quieter than usual”, their dance instructor chimes in. She’s just as strict as their vocal tutor, not as cold and much more sly, which makes her harder to fool. “Are you even paying attention?”

“Yes,” his voice is a little more controlled now.

“Then, why don’t you grace us with your opinion, boy? Shall we or shall we not make the arrangement?” It’s a trick, there is no arrangement proposal; they’re just discussing whether they should or not accept the opportunity to prepare a special stage for the hip-hop unit, as requested by one of the music shows. She is asking it only to test Jihoon.

“The arrangement…” Junhui knows Jihoon has no idea of what they’re talking about. Jihoon’s cheeks are now bright red and Junhui is afraid he may start hyperventilating at anytime, so he decides to prevent him from succumbing to pressure and gives him a little help. He traces with his middle finger the word N-O on his half-hard dick and Jihoon answers hastily with a dry “No”. 

“No what? We shouldn’t do the arrangement?” she pushes and Jihoon hums, acting as if he is thinking to give Junhui time to write the answer on his hardening cock. T-H-E-R-E-I-S-N-O-N-E.

“There is none.” Jihoon is a clever guy; he easily understands what Junhui means, so he adds with a quivering voice, “We aren’t discussing an arrangement”.

“Then what are we discussing, smarty?” She insists.

Junhui slides his finger over the growing bulge in Jihoon’s pants, imprints the shape of the letters carefully, H-I-P-H-O-P. He wants makes sure Jihoon understands the message, especially if it means that he has to feel the arousing route of Junhui’s hand over his eager sex.

Jihoon bites his lips before answering. “Hip-hop. Hip-hop unit. We’re talking about the hip-hop unit.”

“And what were we saying about them?”

“We were saying that the hip-hop unit…” Jihoon speaks as slowly as he can, prolonging the words and taking breaths in between the sentences to give the hand in his crotch enough time to trace the answer. Junhui wastes no time drawing the words S-P-E-C-I-A-L-S-T-A-G-E and is very glad to discover that the letter G’s path hits a collection of secret pleasurable spots that make Jihoon shiver. “Special stage. We were pondering if they should have an special stage”.

Jihoon’s voice sounds much more high pitched than usual and the members must have noticed because they’re whispering among them, instigated by Jeonghan and Seungkwan, the gossip boosters (Junhui swears those two are worse than a sewing club full of middle-aged ladies). They all know each other well enough to detect when something’s off and Jihoon’s body isn’t exactly subtle. In no time, he becomes a tomato with the voice of a chipmunk. 

By now, Jihoon is fully hard and, holy shit, Junhui thinks he’s discovered something big. He feels honored to be the one who unleashed a sexual fetish within Jihoon that maybe not even the boy himself acknowledged. Maybe the short, vindictive boy gets off to exhibitionist porn or humiliation kink. Who knows.

“Should they?” She pries and this is a real question. She is demanding for an opinion and not waiting for a correct answer, but Jihoon doesn’t know that. He waits for Junhui to write the answer on his dick and the handsome boy only manages to doodle an interrogation sign, not knowing how to help this time. 

“I don’t know,” Jihoon starts slowly, testing the water before diving in, “I mean, I’m sure the fans would like it, but Wonwoo can’t perform yet, so… I think another unit should get the special stage.”

This answer seems to be satisfying enough for their tutor, as she just nods and turns away with a suspicious look, muttering a “stay focused” command before resuming her conversation with Seungcheol.

In no time, everything goes back to normal and everybody goes back to paying attention to the discussion, except for Jeonghan, who spears brief glances at Jihoon every once in a while. That constant vigilance from their older friend forces Jihoon to stay quiet even after everything seems to calm down. After the incident, Junhui doesn’t dare to squeeze Jihoon’s erection so carelessly again, but it doesn’t mean he is going to put an end to the feeling up session. He massages the bulge softly with the pads of his fingers, printing light caresses on the pants that have become too tight. He really enjoys the sight of a flustered Jihoon, upset and embarrassed beyond limits and trying to fight back by contracting the muscles of his thighs, even if the dark shade of red that paints his face and the erection in his pants prove that he has already lost that battle. 

Junhui doesn’t know what’s better, the fact that he was able to make Jihoon hard or the fact that he got away with it, which means he just won the bet and that Xbox One is going to be his. His mind is immersed in those self-praising thoughts while his hand moves by itself; the motion has already become mechanic. 

Once again, the subject of Wonwoo’s recovery resurfaces and opinions start to clash. It’s not an easy or gentle topic, it’s quite serious and everybody has something to say. Like that, a dispute starts. Wonwoo argues that he is fine enough to resume his activities, while the tutors insist that he should rest more. Most of the members agree with them, except for a few that empathize with Wonwoo. Mingyu asks if it’s not possible for him to perform on music shows and skip interviews and variety shows because he can’t stand seeing his best friend sad. Seungcheol says that it would work better the other way around, that Wonwoo could appear in interviews and miss performances, since these require a bigger physical effort. Their instructors won’t allow it and, by now, Wonwoo just wants to take what he can get. 

Jisoo is not one to talk much during these routine meetings, but since they’re discussing a member’s well being, he deems it necessary to speak up. He reaches across the table to take one of Wonwoo’s hands between his own and begs him to not rush his recovery; Jeonghan adds that it may only cause long-term damage and that his health is everyone’s number one priority. Junhui mentally agrees with both of them and thinks that maybe Jeonghan isn’t the wolf in sheep’s clothing they all accused him to be, maybe he does have some kindness in him.

Junhui is so immersed in the development of the debate that he totally forgets the importance of Jeonghan’s watch for his own security. He naïvely believes that he managed to tame the tiger and emerge unscathed. Thanks to his poor concentration abilities and ridiculously high ego, he misses the way Jihoon’s hand slide silently under the table. Once he notices, it’s too late. 

He feels a surge of pain when Jihoon’s nails dig into his crotch through his sweatpants, pressing mercilessly into five different spots. Junhui lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched scream, accompanied by a jerky spasm of his whole body that causes his legs to involuntarily kick the table with a loud thud and his chair to slide backwards with a shrill noise. The sudden mix of unpleasant sounds startles everybody, even scares a skittish Seokmin. In that instant, they all focus entirely on him and he feels a blush creeping up his neck. If Jihoon wanted to hurt him and embarrass him, he succeeded. 

“What’s got into you today, Junhui, for God’s sake!” Their vocal instructor yells at him and he can’t find the words to answer. “Can’t you see we’re discussing something serious? Is this a joke to you?” The man scolds him and he shrinks in his chair, terrified.

“I-I’m sorry,” Junhui stutters and briefly looks at Jihoon at his side. He is covering his face with both hands but Junhui can tell that he is laughing by the way his eyes have disappeared into a thin line.

“If you’re not interested, you can leave.” Their dance instructor says dryly. “No one’s stopping you.”

“But-” Junhui thinks it’s unfair. They are always more gentle with Jihoon.

“Leave.” Their dance tutor commands in a steady, yet strict voice that leaves no room for argument. 

“Okay.” He stands up, looking genuinely crestfallen, and walks slowly to the door with fourteen pair of eyes glued to his back. 

Outside the meeting room, he succumbs to a half an hour of moaning about the world’s injustice, the devil living inside Jihoon’s tiny body and Soonyoung’s Xbox One slipping out from his grasp. 

 

Junhui is what you would call “built by experience”. He is the type of man that recognizes when he has made a mistake and knows how to learn from it. For example, he accepts that teasing Jihoon in the meeting and then getting easily distracted was a blunder, but now he is fully aware of the real difficulty of the task he has to execute to win that Xbox. After the incident, he is also conscious that there is an imperative need of improving his approaching strategies; therefore he devotes the short lapses of free time he gets throughout the day, between rehearsals and a magazine photoshoot, to ponder and plan.

He relies on a single premise that he has proved is truthful: “I shall not take chances that may backfire.” He repeats it like a mantra every time he needs to fight his impulsiveness and comes to the conclusion that approaching Jihoon when he is alone is the best option, so he begins to scheme his next move cautiously.

Jihoon’s creativity is born from introspection, which implies certain loneliness. Whenever he is feeling down or unable to fall asleep, he would pursue isolation. Sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night and locks himself up in the bathroom or hides behind the kitchen stall to do some writing or, when the situation gets critical, he would go all the way to his studio regardless of time. It’s understandable. The crowded dorm air turns suffocating for everybody at some time or another, it just happens to be frequent with Jihoon and Junhui is counting on that. 

All he has to do is stay awake until all the other members are sleeping and then wait until he hears the sounds of footsteps outside his bedroom door. That would be Jihoon. Then he has to follow him quietly wherever he goes until he is sure they’re alone and it’s done. It’s a piece of cake. Of course the plan has its little flaws, like the fact that he doesn’t know when is insomnia going to impinge on Jihoon, so the number of nights he would have to stay awake is uncertain. But those are only minor details, nothing he can’t handle. It’s foolproof. 

Junhui imaginarily pats himself in the back for being the mastermind behind the genius idea.

He doesn’t want to waste any time, so he puts his plan into action that same night when they arrive to the dorm from the photoshoot location. He tucks himself in bed and pretends to sleep while the others are still getting ready for bed because he knows Jihoon won’t leave bed unless he is sure no one else will notice.

After what feels like a fucking eternity, the ray of light that slips through the underside of the door is replaced with darkness and the muffled voices are replaced with silence. Junhui gets excited. He just has to wait a little bit longer. That Xbox is going to be his.

 

“What the hell happened to you, man? You look like a fucking panda.”

Vernon looks up at Junhui from his cereal bowl with a concerned frown when the elder appears in the kitchen sporting huge dark circles and a ghostly aura. 

“Thanks, man.” Junhui responds sarcastically, dragging his words because his tongue is half asleep.

“Didn’t you sleep at all last night? You look like shit.” 

Vernon certainly has the gift of honesty, Junhui thinks as he flops down in front of the noisily chewing boy.

“He did,” Minghao walks in shortly after and heads straight to the fridge. “He was actually the first one who fell asleep, I saw him.”

“Then why does he look like shit?” Vernon insists and Minghao just shrugs. 

“Hey, kids.” Seungcheol greets as he walks down the hall to the kitchen with a smile that is highly abnormal at five in the morning. “I’ve got good news. Tonight’s interview is cancelled, so we just have to do Andromeda after the press conference and then we’re free, the manager said he would order chicken and let us… Holy fuck, you look awful!” He stops short after he sees Junhui’s dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

“I told him the same,” Vernon says whilst chewing a mouthful of soggy cereal.

“Swallow before you speak, you brat.” Seungcheol scolds. 

“Vernon, that cereal you’re eating expired a week ago,” Minghao grimaces when he reads the box.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Good luck trying something else to eat.”

Seungcheol walks towards the stove with a sigh and fills a cooking pot with water to boil. “I’ll make ramen, so stop eating that. We need to feed this kid something, just to make sure he won’t die on us.”

 

Perhaps Junhui isn’t ready to deal with the collateral damage of his plan if it means dying from sleep-depravation, but giving up is not an option. He just has to do a few readjustments, change some little things and that’s all. Easy breezy. It’s only a small modification. He can do it; he just needs to think. He chews on it almost as slowly and carefully as he chews the black bean sauce noodles they ordered for dinner.

Maybe instead of waiting awake he could hang a bell on Jihoon’s bedroom door and wait until the ding-dong noise wakes him up… No, it won’t work. The sound would make Jihoon wary and the crucial element of surprise would lack of, well, surprise. Not to mention that Seungcheol is Jihoon’s roommate and a light sleeper, so he is likely to hear the noise and wake up first, which would also screw up the get-him-alone part of his plan. 

Maybe he could get one of those walkie-talkies for sleeping babies that only make sound on one end, hide the silent/baby-end under Jihoon’s bed and keep the noisy/mother-end next to his pillow… No, it won’t work either. How is he supposed to get that shit without making Jihoon suspicious? Even if he managed to escape his schedule to go shopping secretly and alone, he imagines it must be ridiculously expensive and he is broke. In the worst of cases, what if someone recognizes him buying baby stuff and spreads the rumors. He can already imagine the headlines in the news: “Seventeen member Jun might become a TEEN FATHER due to unprotected PREMARITAL SEX”. Nope, he wants no scandals. 

Maybe he could tie a nylon thread in the hallway and that would make Jihoon trip and… No. No matter how you look at it, that’s just a fucking terrible idea. But if instead of nylon he used invisible tape…

“Dude, are you gonna chew the noodles until they become liquid?” 

“Hm?” Junhui is caught of guard by Wonwoo’s deep voice suddenly interrupting his very important train of thoughts. He takes a look around and sees that most of the members are already gone, only himself and Wonwoo remain in the living room.

“It’s already past midnight.” Wonwoo says. “Finish that up and go to sleep fast, I don’t feel like dealing with the Walking Dead version of you tomorrow too, once this week was enough.”

“Don’t worry. I’m almost done, just…” he is interrupted by the sound of Jihoon’s voice coming from the kitchen. He shushes abruptly and not-so-accidentally eavesdrops on the conversation the small boy is having with another member, Chan, as he later recognizes. From what he is able to make out, Jihoon is scolding the youngest for his unhealthy eating habits and says something about Coca-Cola that Junhui isn’t able to understand because Wonwoo speaks again.

“Are you okay, Junhui? You’re acting weird.”

“Yeah, I’m totally okay. Actually, I was saying that I’m done eating and…”

“WHAT THE FUCK, LEE CHAN!”

Jihoon’s yell reverberates through the living room walls and scares the living hell out of Junhui and Wonwoo. They exchange a worried look, stand up in synch and rush to the kitchen to check on their bandmates, see what happened and protect Chan from Jihoon’s rage, but as soon as they arrive, they are greeted with quite a sight. A puddle of dark liquid is slowly growing in the floor; Chan is holding an empty bottle of Coca-Cola and babbling apologies with a shocked expression in his face; and Jihoon is wet and fuming. 

“I-I’m sorry, hyung. I didn’t mean to… I’m s-sorry. Sorry. Are you mad?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer, but instead gives Chan the stink eye. From the kitchen door, Junhui can see that his jaw is clenched and his ears are getting red from anger. He’s going to snap at any moment now and Junhui feels sorry for Chan, the poor boy looks terrified to the point he is stuttering. Without thinking twice, he steps into the kitchen and grabs Jihoon’s shoulders to pull him out of the place before his bad temper wins over his self-control. Wonwoo follows suit, but he heads towards Chan instead.

“Okay, Chan. Let’s take care of this mess. Where’s the mop?” Junhui overhears Wonwoo’s frustrated sigh while he is dragging Jihoon down the corridor, but his voice slowly fades away as they head towards the bathroom. Once they get there, Junhui pushes Jihoon inside and enters right after, closing the door after him. 

“Calm down, okay?” Junhui says, holding his open palms up in front of himself as if they could shield him from Jihoon’s outburst. 

Jihoon closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and when he opens them again the fury in them seems to have decreased the tiniest bit. “I’m calm.”

“It was an accident.”

“I know.”

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air. None of them have really spoken to each other since the day of the meeting and both seem unsure about bringing up the topic. They are evidently nervous about a confrontation and the thick silence only makes things worse, so Junhui starts blabbering because that is a skill he has mastered after spending too much time with Seungkwan. 

“I brought you here so that you can clean up. I mean, you just had cola spilled all over you so I thought you might like to…” In that moment, something in Junhui’s head clicks. He is alone in a bathroom with Jihoon. Alone. “Actually, I think you should take a shower. Dry cola gets sticky.”

“You’re right, it’s gross.” Jihoon agrees and turns around to turn the water on and Junhui locks the door. 

Jihoon takes a few minutes toying with the cold and hot water faucet, trying to find a pleasant temperature. It’s not much time, but it gives Junhui enough time to organize his thoughts. The perfect opportunity to carry out his plan and finally get that Xbox One has just laid itself in front of him, as if sent from heaven, and he couldn’t fuck it up. Since the others quit the _Jihoon Harassing Squad_ , Junhui has been thinking hard about what to do to succeed in a mission they considered impossible, struggling to find the perfect move. It had to be something that would not upset Jihoon too much, something he would not feel the need or the will to return. The matter has been spinning around in his mind for a while all he can think of now is using the last ace he has got under the sleeve: a handjob.

“Aren’t you gonna leave?” Jihoon asks once he has found a temperature he deems suitable. 

“Can I join you?”

“Hell, no.”

“Please! I’m still sweaty from the performance and I don’t want to sleep with my shirt plastered in my back.” 

“I won’t take long, just wait.” 

“It’s already past midnight.” Junhui whines. 

“No.” 

“Come on, Jihoon, I know you’re not heartless.” Junhui begs and rubs his hands together, looking at the shorter boy with wide puppy eyes and an exaggerated pout. 

“Okay,” Jihoon sighs in defeat and then threatens in a scary tone, “but don’t you dare try anything.”

“Hands to myself.” Junhui promises and Jihoon gives him one last suspicious look before turning around to undress. 

“And, please, don’t try to act cute ever again. It’s pathetic.” Jihoon adds whilst peeling off his soaked shirt. 

“Deal.” 

This is nothing they haven’t done before. Living in an apartment with two bathrooms and thirteen occupants implies a progressive loss of privacy. Sooner or later they all come to terms with the fact that showers don’t classify as alone time anymore and witnessing the others’ nudity is impossible to avoid. 

Jihoon gets rid of his skinny pants and underwear with a little difficulty because of the stickiness of the spilled cola, but with a nonchalance that Junhui wished he could muster right now. Thinking about it, Jihoon’s offhanded manners are normal. What is out of the ordinary is Junhui’s hesitance. Junhui has seen Jihoon naked a thousand times, has bathed with him a thousand times, but this is different. 

Thinking about what he is about to do is corroding his courage and he can’t allow that, not if he wants to win. Restoring his resolve, he mimics Jihoon and strips naked. Jihoon can’t bring himself to care enough about the other’s body to even spare him a glance and Junhui is very thankful for that because he, on the other hand, can’t seem to take his eyes off Jihoon’s bare skin for a second. He doesn’t want to get caught staring too much, it would make things awkward. 

Jihoon steps into the shower bath first without saying a word and begins soaping his body right away. Junhui watches him from the other side of the glass while he gets rid of his boxers and, for the first time in all those years of friendship, he takes his time to appreciate the shorter boy’s attractiveness. His blond hair is soaking wet and dripping, he is bending his back to scrub his knee, his ass is sticking out and he kind of happens to have a very nice ass. 

Junhui steps into the shower shortly after and Jihoon wordlessly hands him the soap. Scrubbing his chest absentmindedly, Junhui thinks about how could he start and comes to the conclusion that being straightforward is the best option. He cannot touch him right away if he wants to live to see tomorrow’s sun, but he can dig his way through Jihoon’s defense layers.

“Hey,” he speaks up.

“Hm?” Jihoon is now rinsing his hair and hoarding all the water jet.

“About the other day, at the meeting…”

“It’s fine, I’m not upset.” Jihoon cuts him off, addressing the topic with indifference. “You got scolded and kicked out, so I guess we’re even.” He snorts. “I think the tutors are still mad at…”

“You got hard.” Junhui deadpans and it catches the other off guard.

The statement manages to trespass Jihoon’s first defense layer. He stops what he is doing and turns around to face Junhui with defiant eyes. The nonchalant façade is gone and now he looks upset.

“Get out.” He commands.

“Jihoon, I’m sorry I left you hanging.”

“Get the fuck out!” His tone is louder now, he is angry.

“Let me make it up to you.” And that’s it; he said it. 

The implicit insinuation hangs in the moist air and Jihoon, frozen on the spot, looks at him with wide ayes and half-parted lips, completely mute. Jihoon is taken aback by the sudden and unexpected proposition and his barriers start to fall; that is how Junhui knows he has trespassed the second layer. Now that his victim is honestly surprised, Junhui has the upper hand in the situation. It gives him confidence enough to take one step forward. In response, Jihoon takes one step back and hits the shower tiles.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

Despite being an explicit question, it has ambiguous meanings. The tone of his voice is so steady that Junhui has trouble deciphering it. He doesn’t know if Jihoon really has no clue of what his intentions are or if he already figured that out and is giving him permission to proceed. However, Junhui locks his eyes with Jihoon’s unblinking ones and takes one step forward, until his leg brushes against Jihoon’s slightly bent knees.

“Junhui, stop.”

They are both currently under the warm water spray. Junhui moves his slowly to caress Jihoon’s hips and he tenses but doesn’t move away, and the elder takes it as a good sign. Junhui slides his fingertips over his skin in a feather-like touch until it reaches his groin without breaking eye contact. His fingers fiddle softy with Jihoon’s dark pubic hair, making his abdomen twitch, and keeps up the light contact until Jihoon relaxes again. Then, he cups him and Jihoon’s breath hitches.

“Please stop.” He murmurs, but does nothing to push the hand away.

Junhui grabs his scrotum and squeezes once, feeling in his palm the lumps of Jihoon’s testicles through the skin. Jihoon squeals in surprise and jerks back, his head ungracefully hits the wall and he lets out a shushed “ouch”. 

“It’s okay, relax.” Junhui says as he presses his palm flat against the other’s hips to hold him still and starts rubbing circles there with his thumb. The action seems to have the expected effect on Jihoon because his shoulders loosen up a bit and he closes his eyes.

Junhui can understand Jihoon’s nervousness since he is feeling the same way. This is a new experience for both of them and they are inevitably wary. Junhui may be a little more comfortable with sexual intimacy after having lost his virginity at a young age to his second girlfriend, but Jihoon is a man and that mere detail changes absolutely everything. He has never touched a dick other than his own and the experience is foreign and strange, but not entirely bad. As for Jihoon, he has never even dated before and Junhui is sure that no one has ever touched him this way. It makes him feel guilty for taking advantage of the boy’s innocence, although Jihoon is not complaining.

Junhui continues to massage Jihoon’s balls, applying as much pressure as he can without crossing the line where it turns painful. He circles his thumb and forefinger around the area where Jihoon’s sack meets his dick and strokes down, so that the testicles are pushed to one corner of the sack and resumes kneading with his three remaining fingers. It increases the pressure applied and, in consequence, the sensation becomes more intense, enough to make Jihoon whimper and tense again.

A deep shade of red colors Jihoon’s cheeks, neck and chest and Junhui is not sure if it’s because of his ministrations or the hot water, maybe both. He notices that Jihoon is starting to grow hard; the thickness increases, the foreskin slowly slides back and a few bulging veins become evident on his length. Soon, Jihoon’s dick is standing proud against his stomach and Junhui lets go of his balls.

Maybe Jihoon thinks it’s all over because he opens his eyes impromptu and he grabs Junhui’s wrist. It seems like he acted out of instinct because, as soon as he realizes what he did, he lets go and averts his gaze, mumbling a quiet “sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not done.”

Junhui tentatively grabs Jihoon’s dick with one hand, trying to get acquainted with the foreign genitalia. It’s hot and thick and heavy, probably more than his own. As soon as his hand makes contact with it, Jihoon’s lets out a heavy exhale that attracts the chinese boy’s attention to his face and Junhui immediately wishes he hadn’t look because Jihoon’s expression is highly arousing. He looks so cute and fragile yet so appealing with his half-lidded eyes and parted mouth and that blush on his cheeks. Now he is having mixed feelings about this whole situation. His initial plan was to get Jihoon off as fast as humanly possible and get over with it, but something inside of him wishes to prolong his duty, only to contemplate the boy’s expressions for a little longer. 

He wraps his hand in a loose circle around Jihoon’s length and gives it a few slow strokes. He starts off gently to test the ground, but soon he is comfortable and confident enough to grab the dick with more strength. He thinks about what he usually does to himself and, maintaining the secure grip, he sets a pace that is not too fast and not too slow. Still, it’s enough to make Jihoon moan. 

One of Jihoon’s hands is flat against the glass door while the other one is holding onto Junhui’s arm, not the one he is using to jerk him off, but the one occupied massaging his hip. He has got the chinese boy’s forearm trapped in an iron grip that turns painful every time Junhui increases the speed of his pace just the slightest bit. His chest is heaving and his breathing is uneven and labored. That sight itself is enough to have blood rushing to Junhui’s groin.

By now, Junhui has already set up a stable rhythm. His fist is gripping Jihoon’s cock tight, going up and down the length in quick movements, dragging the foreskin and producing a wet squelch that is thankfully muffled by the water spray. It’s fast and rough, just the way Junhui likes it and it seems that Jihoon likes it too, judging by the way his body is reacting. 

The new intensified pleasure has Jihoon squirming and bucking his hips, thrusting into the ring of Junhui’s fingers. The younger boy bites his lips and throws his head back in a sinful manner and Junhui would be lying if he said that it doesn’t affect him. He feels his own dick getting harder as he listens to the lewd sounds Jihoon makes, so he strokes faster and clutches harder to elicit more gorgeous noises.

Because of the water cascading over their heads, it’s difficult to know if Jihoon is already leaking pre-come, but Junhui is willing to find out. His fist halts midway and he squeezes the thickness in his hand at the same time his thumb rubs against the dickhead. He keeps this up until he feels a viscous substance leaking from Jihoon’s glans, he does his best to gather it in his palm and smears it over Jihoon’s dick before he resumes his stroking, this time much more slick thanks to those few pre-come droplets. It’s a whirlwind of sensations that makes Jihoon lightheaded and makes him groan. It’s a very guttural sound, raspy, low and extremely sexy in Junhui’s ears; enough to overrun what is left of his self-composure. 

In a swift, almost aggressive motion, he lets go of Jihoon’s dick, removes his other hand from his hip and guides them both to grab Jihoon’s ass. He digs his nails in the soft, plump flesh and feels the buttocks spasm under his touch. Junhui begins to move his fingers messily, initiating an arrhythmic kneading that causes the volume of Jihoon’s growling to go up. 

Junhui had already imagined a good quantity of possible reactions from his bandmate, one of those was Jihoon grabbing his ass too, so he is not surprised when he feels small hands pressed flat on his buttocks. What does catch him off guard is that Jihoon pulls his hips forward so that their crotches rub together. 

“Fuck.” The friction of his neglected cock against Jihoon’s makes Junhui shiver in pleasure and he seeks the feeling almost desperately. 

Without removing his hands from Jihoon’s butt, he grinds his hips forward. At first, he does it slowly yet roughly, series of sharp clashes of genitals and pelvic bones separated by intervals that seem increasingly long. When the fast learner boy that is Jihoon easily reciprocates movement, the slow, steady pace becomes unbearable. The coming and going of their lower bodies gains speed and in no time, the pace turns fierce, a messy sway of eager hips that crave the contact with foreign skin, hot and needy.

Jihoon is backed up against the wall, biting his lips to avoid moaning and letting out soft mewls instead. The sounds get lost in the midst of Junhui’s louder gasps and the water droplets that are becoming cooler as they hit the floor tiles one hundred at a time. It’s a sinful harmony; lust organized in its inherent chaos. 

Jihoon’s small hands’ tighten their hold on Junhui’s buttocks at the same time he rolls his hips in a different direction, undulating them in circular motions that elicit drawn out groans from the chinese boy. The thrilling intimacy of the movement heightens the pleasure and the intensity of the act, and it is encouragement enough for the boys to keep it up. They repeatedly rotate their hips to and fro only to feel the enjoyable friction of their hard cocks sliding against each other.

Jihoon lets his head fall on Junhui’s shoulder, hides his face in Junhui’s neck. From that proximity to his ear, registering even the slightest of Jihoon’s intakes of air is inevitable, that’s why the whimpers that progressively increase in volume and frequency are impossible to ignore. Jihoon is close and Junhui is determined to see his face when he comes. Without previous warning, he aggressively pushes them apart, cornering Jihoon even more. The action is so sudden that it leaves Jihoon standing completely still and looking dumbfounded; Junhui thinks it’s endearing. 

The no skin-to-skin contact time doesn’t last more than a few seconds because Junhui approaches Jihoon again, places his left hand on one side of his head and uses his skillful right hand to stroke their cocks together. They slide smoothly next to each other, stimulated simultaneously by Junhui’s rushed hand and the uneven surface of a strange dick. 

All the while, Junhui has his eyes plastered to Jihoon’s face. He is monitoring the expressions Jihoon is making, registering the pleasure-induced frown that is drawn on his forehead, the way he bites his lower lip like a sexy movie cliché, the way his nostrils flare and his eyebrow twitch. Just a few more strokes and just a bit more strength are enough to send Jihoon over the edge. When he comes, his whole body spams, he throws his head back, his hips buck and he fails to hold in a loud moan that echoes in the bathroom. White spurts of semen land in their naked torsos; some on Junhui’s hand and a few even on Junhui’s dick. 

Junhui takes a step back and takes in the sight of Jihoon before him. His reddened chest is heaving because of exhaustion and he is trying to catch his breath with his eyes closed and his mouth parted. He looks beautiful like that, wrecked and wasted. Junhui jerks himself off to the sight of Jihoon’s calm face, his thick thighs, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, his cute blush and his dick that is already going limp again. 

He smears the remnants of Jihoon’s come over his own shaft to make the slide of his fingers around his cock much more slick and smooth. Without wasting any time, he resumes stroking fast and hard. The only thought that manages to materialize in his lust-fogged mind is reaching his climax, thus he frantically goes after it.

When Jihoon opens his eyes, he is greeted by the sight of Junhui standing in all his naked glory in front of him, cock in hand, masturbating. After their little heated session, Jihoon is unfazed by it. The only thing that catches his attention is the dirty gaze fixated on him; Junhui is shamelessly checking him out from head to toe with a lustful expression tainting his stupidly pretty face. Jihoon doesn’t give it a second thought, neither does he stops himself from acting impulsively this time. He swats Junhui’s hand away and takes the matter into his own hands, quite literally.

The change in Junhui’s features is immediate. When Jihoon grabs his dick harshly and yanks roughly, his eyes open wide and he almost chokes on his own saliva. Jihoon is ruthless, grabbing and pulling and squeezing like a fucking master. He doesn’t give Junhui time to adjust, not even a prior warning, he just devotes himself to please his bandmate with all the expertise he can muster. Even if the tempo started off fast, it does nothing than to gain momentum as Jihoon’s hand moves non-stop. 

The squelch of Jihoon’s hand on his dick mixes with the splashy noise that encompasses entirely their little games. The water has already turned cold, but that is no obstacle for a repressed teenager’s stamina; Junhui’s sexual drive reaches incredible heights when Jihoon’s small hands embrace his genitalia in a glorious caress. After overcoming the initial surprise, lust and neediness take over his body and he feels a familiar tingle rushing throughout his nervous system. The prickling sensation travel up his legs and down his abdomen and shortly after, he feels his orgasm approaching.

“Jihoon, I’m close.” He exhales. 

He places one of his hands on Jihoon’s shoulder while the other one is glued to the glass door of the shower for support. When he feels the first waves of his orgasm, he arches his back, lets his hips stutter, closes his eyes tightly and moans in a low, manly voice that sounds sexy even in his own ears (if only he could sing like that). He comes and his semen is discharged in hot, sticky spurts that taint mainly Jihoon’s hands and forearms.

The first long seconds after having an orgasm are always clouded by the veil of exhaustion and relief. The post-orgasmic haze that numbs senses and disables reason is followed by a sudden amplification in the perception of the surroundings. Suddenly, the water jet is too cold and too loud, the air is too thick and the presence of Jihoon by his side is too overwhelming. 

They remain in silence whilst Jihoon washes off Junhui’s come under the water spray. Junhui clears his throat to get Jihoon’s attention and, when their eyes finally meet, they burst into laughter. 

“What the fuck was that?” Junhui hears Jihoon mumble, averting his gaze and shaking his head. 

“I don’t know,” Junhui leans against the wall, watching Jihoon wash his abdomen, legs, arms and hands once again, “I guess I just wanted to know how far I could go before you killed me.”

“I hate you,” Jihoon says without spite in his voice. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to wank me back, though.”

“I was only returning the favor.” Jihoon shrugs. “Aren’t you going to wash?” He adds with a raised eyebrow when he spots a few remaining droplets of cum in Junhui’s torso.

Junhui smiles and quietly joins Jihoon under the spray. Their bodies touch and it’s neither awkward nor sensual. On the contrary, the contact, along with the silence, is weirdly comfortable. Junhui is thankful for this kind of careless ease that can only be achieved after years of friendship. 

“Let’s never do this again, okay?” Jihoon says, turning to face Junhui. 

“Okay.”

“Let’s never even talk about it, okay?” He insists, a bit unsure. It is a sign that self-awareness is starting to seep in through the lust and confusion. 

“Okay, don’t worry.” It has the complete opposite effect, because Jihoon starts to worry. 

“Actually, let’s forget about this. This never happened. If someone ever asks, you just deny it and…” he is cut off by Junhui’s lips on his own. The kiss is short and chaste, but it shocks Jihoon nonetheless.

“You’re going to forget that too?” Junhui says with a cheeky grin. 

“Get the fuck out of here before I murder you.” Jihoon deadpans and Junhui knows better than to disobey.

 

Night is a double-faced phenomenon, equally terrible and terrific. It’s always frigidly harsh for those who err and gentle for those who don’t. It has the ability to easily creep into remorseful minds and haunt them with guilt and regret, materialized in the never-ending film of their daytime mistakes that repeat themselves like monstrous memories. Likewise, it seeps through the silence of a slept city and into an unrepentant soul like the sweetest lullaby, generous and peaceful.

Tonight, Jihoon is having one night of the first type. Flashbacks of Junhui, Junhui’s sex and Junhui sexing him occupy his head, tormenting him to the point of causing a nightmare-induced insomnia. Junhui, on the other hand, is having a night of the second type. The ego of a hidden patriarchal butch that hides deep below his several layers metrosexuality is relishing in the fact that Jihoon, virgin as he is, allowed Junhui to intimately touch him. That, along with the fact that Jihoon did not reciprocate his kiss, which means he won the promised Xbox One, is taking away his sleepiness and replacing it with excitement. 

Separated by thin walls, one boy regrets all his poor life choices, wondering why is he so good and making bad decisions and blaming the overall decadent void that is post-modern adolescence, whilst another one rejoices at the memories of what he thinks is one of the most gratifying days of his life, a day filled with seemingly unstoppable series of personal successes. For Junhui, life is bright and, if today was good, tomorrow is likely to be better. 

 

“What is this?”

Junhui is looking with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment at the big black box presented in front of him. It has a prominent “X” at the top that occupies almost the whole upper area of the box, except for the little remaining spaces where many small gutter-like fissures are located. In the middle of the big “X”, there is a green circle with the word Xbox written in white, squared letters. It’s an old console, covered by a thin layer of dust and camouflaged behind a messy tangle of black wires that connect the controllers to the console.

“Your prize.” Soonyoung says with a mocking grin.

“You said an Xbox One.”

“I said an Xbox, the first one.”

“No, you didn’t, asshole.”

“Yes, I did.” Soonyoung singsongs.

“Yes, he did.” Jisoo intervenes. “You should learn to listen, that would serve you good, Jun.”

“You all knew it?” He incredulously scans the other three boys gathered in the _Jihoon Harassing Squad_ meeting room, a.k.a. Soonyoung’s bedroom. 

“Yes,” Mingyu nods, “why do you think we gave up so easily?”

“Why do you think I even bet it in the first place?” Soonyoung adds.

Junhui sighs and, with heavy resignation upon his shoulders, he looks at the old Xbox console. Maybe it’s not the newest version, but it’s not that bad. He can still play Halo 1 until three in the morning, right?

“And… where are the games?” He looks at Soonyoung while deep down within his soul a new fear is starting to emerge. What if kid Soonyoung only played stuff like Dungeons and Dragons: Heroes or Blinx: The Time Sweeper? 

“It has no games. I lost them all when we moved out of the house back in 2007… or was it 2008? I’m not sure. You’ll have to get them on your own.”

“They don’t sell games for this anymore!” Junhui exclaims and Jisoo shrugs.

“That’s none of our business,” Mingyu says.

“I hate you all.”

“Wait!” Soonyoung shouts as if he has just remembered something important. “I think that my sister still has an old copy of Dungeons and Dragons, if you’re interested.”

“I hate you the most.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this amorphous thing. I'm honestly not sure of what this is, it's too long to be plotless porn yet too full of bullshit to consider it owner of an actual plot. 
> 
> Still, I was itching to write this. I've lowkey shipped this couple since they won their first award and Jun comforted Woozi while he cried. It was just so cute. They look so cute together, but there are not many fanfics about them and I don't understand why.
> 
> Also, I kind of really like writing porn.


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